


Waiting

by kukoriri (xuukinishi)



Series: Tales From The Calamity [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s), POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 15:49:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15844470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xuukinishi/pseuds/kukoriri
Summary: With Dalamud looming overhead, he endures the feeling of being left behind.





	Waiting

The reds of the sky couldn’t match the searing gaze of my father’s eyes as he looked beyond- beyond the borders of the Shroud and towards the plains of Carteneau. Small I was, and even smaller I felt as my parents prepared their armor.

My father was a fun and playful sort of man. The sort my mother oft scolded or needed to shoo away as she finished business. When alone, he had a quiet demeanor that belayed the curiosity and wanderlust he could never really sate. I had never seen such anger in him before this day, if ever. And Mother… my mother wasn’t herself either. Rather than the strong voice of command I was used to receiving chores from, or the sturdy one that would guide me through whatever problem I could not solve, she spoke in tones soft and thoughtful.

The axe on her back gleamed in twilight that just never seemed to fade while my father’s sword rested at his hips, his hand hovering over it as though a battle lurked no more than an ilm away. As withdrawn as they were in their own thoughts, when I approached them I was met with open and gentle glances. I was clutching the small staff I had helped to carve when I began practicing conjury the year before. The signs of war had spurred me to find some way to help them myself, some way to keep them safe. With Mother and Father following the path of marauder and gladiator respectively, I knew it was the front lines that awaited them. I wanted to be there to help them, and to heal them. They would never have let me follow them, but I worked hard anyway, hoping all the same.

I reflected on all of this, and opened my mouth to speak. Father, however, hushed me right away and instead took my hand. Urging me to open it, my Mother came towards us and placed something within it, and they closed it together. I held onto the object I could not yet see, while they told me they wished for me to keep it safe. When they let go, I saw a small, green ring. I wished to ask why they had given it to me, and what was so important, but both raised their hands to their ears. A message had arrived.

——

By the time evening fell, I was alone. Others had come to our home to obtain supplies and when they left, my parents went with them. So, I waited.

One night became three days, each slower than the last. I could hardly sleep, with that ominous red glow in the sky. Every night, I sent out a message to my parents through my linkpearl, but all were ignored. The anxiety that crept along the edges of my conscious mind helped not the dreams I had of the clinking of steel and fields consumed by flames.

On the fifth day, I touched the ring in my pocket carefully. For some reason, each time I tried to put it on, I fumbled. Even stranger, I felt stronger just having it on my person. Could that be why they entrusted me with it? And just how were my parents doing? I prayed to the Twelve that they were safe, and wondered if they thought of me where they stood. Were Mother to see me as I was, sitting atop a box of dried fruit and neglecting my chores for yet another day surely she’d have my hide. With that thought, I resolved to fill the wait with work.

When I had completed the work on the farm for the day, I would practice conjury or meditate. The voice I could sometimes hear when I did the latter, the was one that would lead me home when I was lost, had been silent since the day the moon began its rushed descent. Perhaps it was because I was exactly where I was supposed to be. The thought of that caring voice choosing silence comforted me, and desperate as I was for such the thought that it could have been itself silenced did not cross my mind.

On the seventh day, when night fell, I woke suddenly in a sweat. The air about was hot and oppressive, choking my sleeping form until I clawed my way to consciousness and air. I stumbled about my room, instinctively grabbing the stave from the wall and rushing outside. The moon was larger than ever, and something frightening was taking place on its surface. The earth shook as debris fell in the distance.

What I remember most clearly is how helpless I felt in those moments. With the cracked moon the backdrop of the moment, I was not just small, but completely insignificant. I had actually wanted to follow my parents to their fight, but it was _their_ fight. If this was how I felt just looking at the sky, what was it like to be fighting under it ? And what if… what if I had to see them fall?

I could do nothing to change the tides of battle as I was, and certainly could not from where I was. So I hurried deeper into to forest, and sheltered by the older trees, I waited. I waited until the noise from the battle grew loud enough to reach me, and fell silent. I waited until the world turned to a blinding white, and then to black.

I waited, until I found myself lying on the ground, the world somehow not over. And when I returned home, I sat in front of our door waiting until my parents stumbled in— hurt, but not much worse off than when they left. And with me they waited until the tears stopped falling from my eyes.

 

 


End file.
